Between

Looking up, I see infinite iterations

And my heart is free to fill the sky.

When I look down, I see a world

made small by hate and fear,

where I cannot move or touch.

I will not share a photo of down.

Down is your windowless room

beside the railway

and the endless earthquake of trucks.

There is a world between us.

But we both may hear the birds.

Photo description: Twenty-two grey pigeons in scattered flight across a clear cobalt sky. Outstretched wings underlit against the dark arrows of their heads.